The Last Supper
by NekyuToi
Summary: The Friends are reunited in 2014, their adult fears realised, exposed; old wounds ripped open, splashed with lemon juice and salt then savagely sewn up, all in front of a live studio audience. A reunion between friends.
1. Chapter 1

The Last Supper

Chapter One: The One with the Reunion

The elevator doors slid shut in front of Chandler as he held his finger suspended on one of the buttons. He grimaced as the familiar sound of grating metal reverberated in his ears. Flecks of grey hair twitched as his ears danced in agony. He wore blue checkered pants and a Rock Cafe t-shirt. Appropriate summer wear but a tad unbecoming of Chandler's age. He subconsciously donned such garb in the vain effort of recuperating his youthful energy. Alas, such efforts were in vain; his last remaining sola lay in snorting lines of cocaine.

Meanwhile, in Joey's flat...

Joey shuffled uncomfortably on a bar stool, his fat ass shifting constantly over the sides of the cheap plastic furniture that adorned his abode. Pizza stained the walls, the floor, the soul of the room. Monica let out a loud, audible sigh as she once again had to peel her expensive plush shoes from the insatiable floor. Joey grinned out of sympathetic misery, the entire time reflecting in his tiny brain the dismal life he led and how his so-called friends would think of him now. Monica stamped her foot down loudly and slammed a knife down on the now clean kitchen counter. It had taken her two minutes to clean it once she had gotten her portable Filipina chacha in. Not that she would leave the cooking to the help, of course. She could not let that bitch Rachel think her cooking had become inadequate, hence getting someone else to do it for you. Monica rubbed her nose and shouted loudly for her brother.

"Bring me the goddamn water, Ross!" she spat, eyeing her surroundings with disgust. She had moved onto better things than this. This filth just disgusted her, Joey disgusted her, everything disgusted her. She grimaced in horror upon turning to glance at her company, and realised how blindly she had wasted her youth laughing away like a dirty peasant. Old age had laid its hand upon her throat and refused to let go, nary a laugh could escape.

Ross got up off the sofa in a huff. For him the room was spinning. His LSD hit had not been a big one, but enough to mellow him out. For a while now he had become accustomed to hearing his sister's demeaning demands. His life had hit a rough patch recently, thus it was that he moved into live with her.

At every step Monica did everything to demean him and dehumanize him. Like a dog. Orders here, clean up there, look after my goddamn kid too. Ross sometimes wished he could just grab her throat and shut her up, but then again she was helping him and... he took it.

Rachel sat waiting in the taxi outside the apartment. She eyed the street, lest anyone recognise her. She had come a long way since this shithole and had never looked back since. She still wondered why she had accepted the invitation to come, but then again it was an opportunity to show off how fabulous her life had become. She snappily opened a gold hand mirror and glanced at her wrinkles. That antiaging treatment that bitch nurse recommended had turned out to be complete bollocks, so some Mexican bitch nurse was SO going to lose her job!

"You!" Rachel spat, her pearly white teeth gnashing as she barked. They sparkled like the enamel on a used toilet. "Go round the block again, and don't try to Jew me with that meter!" she continued, waving a tissue at her limousine driver. He nodded quietly and obeyed, it would be easier than shooting her. Rachel did not want to be the first one there.

Phoebe sat in her beaten-up Ford Ka. Its pink exterior would have cried upon learning of its pathetic existence. Her car was not long for this world. It wilted in the sun. Paint peeled off here and there, and the driver's door was weakening, falling...

Phoebe knocked back another vodka shot from her bottle. She had tried with various other spirits and hazardous chemicals, but vodka suited her passive aggressiveness best. She stubbed her cigarette out on the dashboard with a wave of her hand then proceeded to exit the car slowly. She was still a bit high from the dope she had been smoking earlier, so took her time getting into the apartment to allow her eyes time to go less red. She was not looking forward to seeing any of her morose friends again. She had only come as the invitation was one she could not possibly refuse. In it held a threat. It was from Rachel; Rachel was the only person with whom she had maintained contact, and occasionally supplied her with marijuana. The threat demanded Phoebe's presence lest a dirty video should get out of Phoebe doing it doggy style with Joey from Days of our Lives. She wouldn't have minded so much had she been caught defecating in Chandler's mouth, but Joey was a has been celebrity, and her riding him would spread on YouTube like herpes on Rachel's vagina Phoebe used to assuage with live yoghurt and goat's cheese.

It would be a shitty night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Memories Shared

Much to Rachel´s surprise, she was one of the first guests to arrive. How this could be she could not fathom, for she had been waiting outside for more than six hours. Chandler had been, in fact, the first person to arrive at their apartment, but he had snuck out to the bathroom to read goofy articles on his smartphone and snort cocaine. Phoebe had bolted in fear and still hid in her beaten up car, toking heavily on a well-filled bong. Rachel stamped her foot in anger as Monica suddenly entered into the living room. She was the first person Rachel had seen since entering the building.

Silence passed between them as both their faces turned to stone. Statue-esque expressions shielded both their faces as they both aggressively held their rage and hatred back. It was very tiring to do it for so long, so through clenched teeth Monica hissed Rachel´s name in a socially required salute. Though her botox helped keep her expression dead-pan, Rachel could not help but reflexively twitch her eye nervously as she replied with equally acidic tone. Monica turned around almost immediately and dashed back into the kitchen.

"Ross!" she shrieked, as she threw a towel onto the dirty, pizza-stained floor, "That blonde bitch is here, so get some nibbles out!" she barked. Canned laughter replied, as if scores of people in an audience were laughing at her. She kicked open the door from where the laughter was emenating. Inside, Ross was sitting on a beanbag in his underwear watching old sitcom repeats on VHS and drinking cheap Spanish lager. She snarled through her inflamed nostrils and spat venom at Ross. "You should be keeping an eye on the vegetables, idiots!" she screeched, her vocal chords straining with furious tension. Her eyes, blood-shot and weary pulsated with anger as she returned to the blinding flourescent light of the kitchen.

Rachel was nowhere to be seen, having fled into the bathroom to "powder her nose before the others arrive" supposedly. In reality, she was staring into a mirror, a glazed look in her eyes. The dim light of the weak bulb that pathetically illuminated the mirror casted its yellow glow on her pallid, grey, washed out face. Those botox injections had worked liked a charm, and at least those awful sagging wrinkles that plagued her forehead weren´t throbbing with aggression as they were apt to do. Rachel quickly pulled out her packet of Lucky Strike cigarette and lit one with gusto. One deep inhalation after the other and all was well again. As she did this she powedered her nose with an expensive makeup kit. She had to look absolutely perfect for this dinner.

Joey had long since left the kitchen, having made his pathetic excuses and slithered away to his bedroom. Empty pizza boxed, stained with beer and vomit, covered most of the floor. In one corner of the room was his bed, covered in old unwashed clothes and porno mags. In the other corner was a desk where the computer sat. He rushed over to it and turned on the monitor. Instantly the video cameras came onto the monitor, and Joey could see into every important room in the apartment building. His plan was coming into action...

Months ago, before all this talk of a reunion had surfaced, Joey had faced a crisis in his life. After failing to find any sort of meaningful work upon the departure of his friends he succumbed to a life of gambling, the dole, alcohol, drugs and television. How he had longed for those summer nights where he and his friends would muse upon their eternal sruggles in life, where every day seemed a repeat of life, with minor, insignificant and meaningless changes throughout. It had only occured to him sometime post factum that he could only regain the glories of his past by living through it once more, hence he had devised his plan to reunite everyone together once more to relive that wonderment. Of course, his friends had no idea what was to happen...

Phoebe, having come down to the last of her pot in her cigarette case, stubbed one more joint out on her dashboard and downed a gulp of whiskey from her leather hip flask. Currently she worked as a kindergarten teacher, which certainly helped her earn a lot, but the job left her both fatigued and susceptible to wasting her money on drugs. Through deep breathing she gained the courage to leave her car and go up to the apartment of her past. It had been years since she had stepped in the elevator, only to find it not working, and years since she followed the same path up those flights of stairs, avoiding the weak steps and the cracks in the floor. Everything was burned into her mind, her memory, her existence. Though she had fled from here many moons ago it still formed a part of her, her development, her life, and would never, ever leave her. It had tainted her. She felt dirty, she couldn´t breath as she hefted herself up another ten flights. Everything she despised waited for her upstairs in those rooms of death, blackness. Profound memories of lore, friendships past whistled in the wind as it eeriely passed through the empty stairwell. Darkness waited.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Hidden Agenda

Phoebe literally fell into the hallway from the stairwell, her high heels not agreeing with her high status. Luckily for her Chandler had been standing right next to the stairwell door just before she fell through it, allowing him to catch her and save her from a nasty fall. He had been standing there contemplated an easy exit lest he should run into Monica first. Their divorce had not been pretty. Their Chinese baby, whose name escaped Chandler for the moment, was taken into care by Monica´s parents, and rarely did either parent get to see her (or was it him?) much anymore.

Naturally, Monica blamed Chandler for all what happened, not taking into account her aggression, violence, theft and drug abuse crimes. All he had done was hire prostitutes and invite them back into the house where he would charge them to leave their kids with his Chinese ones. It hadn´t worked out well, but everything went back to normal in the end. Except the feds were informed this time. Monica had instantly filed for immediate divorce and been granted it. Chandler was left ruined, with nothing but his house in California and his horrible red sportscar that he insisted was a classic. Chandler currently was employed by Showbiz Raisins, a teen entertainment talent scout, where he would find fresh young talent, and seduce them into showbusiness in LA. Literally...

Monica hated his new job for two reasons: it allowed him to be independent of her and he was seen swanning around with a young girl every week, which angered the hell out of her. Although she could not have been said to have been in love with him still, her possessive and jealous psychotic fixations did not lend well to her current situation with Chandler.

Meanwhile Phoebe was rubbing her clothes down to free it from the dust it had accumulated in the stairwell. Chandler! He looked terrible.

"Hey, dude." she said cooly, lighting up a cigarette. "Wanna cigarette?" she asked.

"Do I?" he replied in his dreary, ironic tone. It was the same sarcastic intonation she had heard countless times. It hurt her ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Just goddamn take one and save the sarcasm this evening." she spat, dragging on her cigarette. The smoke floated away her immediate problems momentarily, before Chandler´s voice broke the illusion of peace.

"Are you going to go in?" he asked, nervously. He held his small hands in his pockets, with his sleeves folded halfway up his arm like an idiot. She hated when he did that. Everything about him irritated her. Little did they know that Joey was currently filming their encounter on the stairwell. Cameras were everywhere, picking up everything. Currently it was picking up a live feed on Chandler and Phoebe talking in the hallway and Rachel taking a dump in the toilet.

The live feed was being transmitted live to Comedy Central, FOX and the BBC as a reunion episode of Friends. Of course, none of them had any idea that such a thing was happening, nor that ten million people and counting were watching their every move. Every line of cocaine snorted in the bathroom by Chandler had been caught and shown around the world in ultraHD; every hit taken on her bong by Phoebe had been shown in perfect clarity, the redness of her eyes particularly paid attention to. What Joey was doing was highly illegal and would have severe consequence for him when the truth came out, but for now 50% of the world´s population including all of the Friends cast bar Joey remained ignorant of the Ultimate Deception of the Century!

Joey had written all of the invitations to every main cast member of Friends. In it he had lied about his identity and his intentions. In his invitation to Phoebe, for example, he had pretended to be Rachel, threatening her with blackmail. In his invitation to Ross, for another example, he had blackmailed him with photos of him in slutty bondage gear. He couldn´t risk that getting out on campus...

Monica continued to stir the vegetables miserly, alone in the kitchen. She had given up shouting at Ross to do things, for he was now nervously getting ready to be seen by Rachel. He had gained weight, gotten uglier and balding so had to take a few hours to become well-presented. Besides, Monica did not want to degrade her dignity by shouting so loudly when that bitch Rachel was about. She hadn´t seen her or heard her from the living room, so she must be in the toilet shaving her face, Monica thought viciously. Her fist clenched the wooden spoon tensely, her knuckles white.

The Twitter reaction to the live episode reunion of Friends had been unusual, but this reflected the nature of the episode itself. Explicit scenes of drug taking and sexual scenes between Phoebe and Joey in a video had not been expected on a new episode of Friends. Instant Twitter reaction had reasoned that, for example, the producers had gone for a more-modern, edgier format to the show. Phoebe defecating in Chandler´s mouth, notwithstanding.

Yet still, none of the former Friends cast members were aware of this. Deliberately they had all turned off their cell phones, lest anybody tried to make contact with them. The last place any of them would profess to be now was in the dingy flat they used to live in years ago together. It would be career suicide! Only Joey did not have to turn his mobile off, but that was because nobody ever called him.

Joey watched on the monitor as Monica stirred her vegetables. He giggled nervously as he slid his finger across a huge red button. Upon pushing this button Monica´s jacket would catch fire spontaneously, for the audience´s entertainment. With any luck, she would start panicking and call for help, bring Rachel and Ross out to play for the cameras. Meanwhile, Rachel´s dress had been intercepted and set up to fall off as the seams came undone just as she was helping Monica with the flames. All this was yet to happen.

With glee he pushed down eagerly on the button. The live feed was now focused on Monica and the vegetables. After a few seconds delay her jacket, next to the oven on the chair, instantly burst into flames! Monica screamed as she threw the spoon chaotically into the air and threw the chair to the floor, screaming for help as she stamped down on her expensive leather jacket. It was Chanel, and cost her at least ten thousand dollars. Now it was ruined, and being trampled on by Monica´s dog-shit-from-earlier-covered-shoed foot. Rachel ran from the toilet to see what the hell was going on, but rather than helping Monica put out the flames, lit a cigarette from the fire coming off the jacket. As she knelt down to light her cigarette her dress came off as it ripped at the seams and she was left crouching there absolutely naked in front of twenty five million people around the world, including Monica and Ross. Monica cackled wildly as she forgot about the small fire burning away what was left of her jacket. Rachel´s humilitation was incredibly satisfying, especially as her brother was standing far behind her, taking secret photos with his smartphone and watching mesmerised. Rachel would never live this down. Had Monica known about the cameras she would have died from delight. Rachel screamed, grabbed what was left of her dress and ran into the toilet where she kept a spare dress in her handbag. Ross giggled schoolboyishly and ran back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. As Monica clapped her hands for her portable Filipino chacha who was waiting in the broom cupboard for orders, Ross lay on his bed, touching himself as he aroused himself on the photos he had taken of Rachel. Ross was now the focus of the live feed. His masturbation scene was deemed "the most innovative romantic scene between Rachel and Ross, highlighting their lonliness..." by the New York Times.


End file.
